Keep It Together
by blue.rose.spobette
Summary: During current 90210 time frame. After their separation, David fights to win Donna back.
1. Chapter 1

**Keep It Together**

_**Chapter One**_

He spun the hand gun around his finger precariously, gradually quickening the pace of his celebrated trick. David's heart pounded heavily in his chest as a feeling of dread crept over him. He cried out for him to stop. Yet, Scott continued to spin the pistol…faster and faster…

_BOOM._

David shot up in bed suddenly, his breath hitched in his lungs. His bare back and chest were soaked in a cold sweat, his heart racing at a million miles a minute.

"Donna," he gasped through staggered breaths. "Donna…the nightmare…it happened again…"

He reached behind himself to grasp his wife, with whom he knew he'd find the comfort he needed. All he felt beneath his palm were cold, bare sheets. Temporarily confused, he turned to see that the other side of the bed was empty.

Reality returned to him like a gale force wind. She had left…she no longer lived there. His Donna…a thousand miles away.

The memory rang through his mind like a cruel symphony.

"_David, this isn't up for discussion. I've opened a store in Beverly Hills. I'm not staying."_

"_Donna, be realistic," David pleaded, walking backwards to face her as she bee-lined towards the closet. "What about Ruby? What about our apartment? What about—"_

"_What about the dreams we planned to follow, together?" she interrupted forcefully. "Japan was not supposed to be in the equation. When we agreed to go, I didn't think it would be permanent."_

"_What do you want me to say Donna?" David demanded as he watched her carelessly yank clothing off of hangers and throw them into her suitcase. "What exactly can I say to make this better? You know that my job here has been too great to pass up. The money is better than we ever imagined! I can support us best if we stay here."_

_Donna paused in her task, turning to face him somberly. "David…" she began quietly, "it was never about the money. It was about us, being together—raising a family. You know that's all I've ever dreamed of. We could have been dirt poor…"_

"_But we're not!" David argued. "We're not poor. We're wealthy and successful and it's an added bonus." _

"_Not if there is no one to share it with," Donna whispered, hurriedly wiping the appearing tears on her cheeks. _

_David gulped hard to keep the lump in his throat from rising. "What are you saying?"_

_Donna released a sharp exhale and turned away. "We have no support system here. It's been four years…and I still feel like a tourist. I…I'm saying…I'm not happy." _

"_You're not happy with __**me**__?" David asked quietly. _

_Donna choked back a sob and failed to reply. This deafening silence seemed response enough for David, who felt his strongest defenses gearing up. _

"_Fine," he conceded, throwing his hands up. "Fine. You want to go? Go!" To accentuate his point, he picked up where she left off with throwing clothes into the suitcase. _

"_David," she cried, crossing her arms across her chest protectively. "David, don't. Come with me. Please." _

"_I can't," he said sternly, slamming the full suitcase closed. "You know that's not going to work." _

_She wiped the moisture from her cheeks and smiled sadly. "Then neither will we." _

David inhaled deeply, dejected. It had only been a couple of weeks since she had come back to collect her things. And yet…it seemed like a lifetime ago. He flopped back onto the sweat-drenched sheets, staring at the dancing lights the muted television played across the marble ceiling.

Through all of their trials and tribulations, David had managed to hold fast to Donna, no matter what. After ten years of on-again-off-again dating, he could not have imagined spending his life with any other woman. That's why he proposed. But now…

Try as he might to resist, he could not help himself. He turned to his nightstand to admire the framed photograph of them on their wedding day. Remembering their vows, he could not remember another time in his life that he had felt so happy and so…secure. He was sure it was everything he had ever wanted…

Then why was his pride ruining all of it now?

_Because,_ a stern voice in his head commanded, _because David Silver has never before had anything to show for his successes. It's not selfish to finally feel like you're accomplishing something. _

The internal dialogue had been plaguing him for months, since the arguments had started. He found himself growing truthfully exhausted by the perpetual angel-and-devil-on-each-shoulder dichotomy. No matter how feverishly he argued with himself, he could not bring himself to budge on the issue.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly and looked at the television.

"Hmm," he chuckled bitterly. "Hartley House." He allowed his eyes to flutter shut and exhaustion overtook him once more.

* * *

><p><em>BRRRRRRING! BRRRRRING!<em>

David carefully opened one eye to examine the source of the unwelcome noise. Stupid telephone.

"Go away, I'm not here," he mumbled tiredly, burying his head tightly between two pillows. Despite his innocent night, he felt insanely hung over.

The answering machine clicked on. "You've reached the Silver residence. Leave a message."

"David, it's Bradley."

David weakly lifted his head at the sound of his agent's voice on the recording.

"Big news buddy—I spoke with Mr. Yamamoto. He's offering you a handsome record deal with his label, and a full-scale tour. I told you he'd come through for us, Silver! Call me as soon as you get this."

David sat up straight, wondering if he had heard correctly. After all the years of music production, had he finally accomplished his true dream of recording his own creations? To confirm his understanding of the message, he played it back a second time for safe measure.

"No way," he whispered excitedly. Before even considering the potential consequences of his actions, he leapt towards the phone and dialed what had become a painfully familiar international number. It rang once—twice.

"Hello?"

Her voice had never sounded so sweet.

"Baby, it's me," he said immediately. "Guess what just happened?"

A hesitant silence separated the conversation. "What is it, David?"

"My manager called. He finally got me a record deal. Isn't that fantastic?" David tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder so as to pull on his jeans.

Another pregnant pause. "That's wonderful," Donna said, her voice devoid of any true joy.

David stopped dead in his tracks, pants still unbuttoned, to realize the foolishness of the phone call. He was so used to calling her with good news…He had momentarily forgotten entirely about the separation.

"Y-yeah," he stuttered as his buzz painfully fizzled. "I wanted you to be the first to know."

"I'm happy for you."

It certainly didn't sound that way.

"Look, Donna," he began carefully. "Now that my music career is taking off for real, maybe we can discuss moving you back over the Pacific."

The deafening pauses between each of his sentences was becoming asinine.

"David…" she began quietly.

Suddenly a child's voice cried out in the background. David felt a painful tug on his heartstrings at the sound of his daughter's sobs.

"I have to go," Donna said abruptly. The immediate dial tone echoed in David's ears.

Frustrated, he ended the call. How could she do this? Why wasn't she happy for him? Why wasn't it enough to bring her home?

"God damnit!" he bellowed, launching the phone across the room with all of his might. The impact shattered a hanging mirror on the far wall.

He collapsed back into a sitting position on the bed, holding his head in his hands, feeling as though he had entered into a bipolar relapse. What a strange thing, to be able to cycle through so many different emotions in such a short ten minutes…

He counted silently backwards from one hundred to level his breathing and control his trembles of anger—just as his therapists had taught him to do. Once calmer, he raised his head to once again be met with the same photograph he had studied so mournfully the night before.

He took a deep breath and declared his unspoken vow aloud: "I'm going to win you back, Donna."


	2. Chapter 2

**Keep It Together**

_**Chapter Two**_

"I need a large skim caramel macchiato to go. Hold the whip. Name is Donna."

It was a busier morning in Beverly Hills than normal, and that was saying something. On her way to the coffee house, Donna had nearly been steamrolled by several reckless drivers, caught in three traffic jams, and re-routed by the inevitable construction. She was already running late to the store, but knew that her day would only be counter-productive without much-needed caffeine.

The conversation with David last night had only succeeded in reviving her insomnia. Not that he had done it on purpose…Oh, hell. He did everything on purpose. He knew her so well that he could practically read her mind: and that probably applied from thousands of miles across the ocean. He must have known that her week had been going smoothly, without a hitch…that she had even remembered to add the prefix of "ex" to "husband" when discussing him with co-workers, a word that had previously been lodged in her throat like a tumor. He must have just _felt_ her beginning to move on…

Then he had to go and call her "baby." Her heart had melted at the loving voice of adoration that she had missed so much in the past few months. Ever since they had begun arguing, it seemed as though that voice would never return. He had only yelled, or snapped, or jeered…It had been so long since he had quietly told her he loved her, or affectionately took her in his arms and whispered promises of forever in her ears…

Donna sighed heavily. She knew she mustn't start her day like this. Thoughts of the impossible reconciliation with David would only cloud her mood. That was the last thing she needed, especially with the impending negotiations with the budding movie company she had quoted for costume design. Her life was finally falling into place: her career was taking off on the right foot, her daughter was healthy and beautiful and growing each day…

And her husband lived in another country.

"Order up for Donna."

Donna shook herself from her reverie and greedily grasped onto the coffee that had been set on the counter before her. How foolish to begin thinking like this again…It was what had started the problems with David in the first place.

"Donna?"

She turned around abruptly, startled by a familiar voice calling out to her.

"Donna _Martin_? Is that you?"

Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach. A plethora of unpleasant memories came rushing to the surface…being slammed against a wall in Portland…being pushed down a flight of stairs in Palm Springs…

Though her instincts told her to run, she could not remove her gaze for morbid curiosity.

"Donna!" he confirmed to himself, rushing over from his private table in the corner. Before she knew it, he had enveloped her in an unexpectedly gentle hug.

"Ray," she managed, backing out of the hug in discomfort. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," he began, "this is my favorite place to write. I've been working on a new song. You know…I write for Interscope now."

"Oh," she murmured, trying with all her might to feign excitement. "That's…that's great."

Ray's smile faltered slightly as he detected her façade.

"Listen…Donna…" he began slowly. "Will you come sit with me and talk? This will only take a second."

Donna forced a small smile as she debated on how to politely decline. She wanted nothing more than to get to work, as quickly as possible, forgetting the entire incident.

But he sounded so…_sincere_. Her curiosity got the best of her.

"Just for a second," she allowed against her better judgment, sliding into the booth across from him and sipping uncomfortably on her coffee.

"Listen," he started again, tapping a pencil uncertainly on the notebook in front of him. He stared at the pages, unable to meet her eyes. "I owe you a serious apology…for…before…"

Donna paused in anticipation, admittedly surprised at where the conversation was going.

"I've spent the last five years in therapy. And I've been taking anger management classes in my spare time. You know…it's actually really helpful. Did you know that a lot of domestic violence is caused by displaced anger?"

Donna cleared her throat and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "No, actually…I hadn't heard that."

"Well, it's true," he continued, at last looking up from his lyrics. "And I want you to know that my anger wasn't because of you. It was because of my mother. And I took it out on you…and I shouldn't have. I know that now. And I understand if you can't forgive me. I don't think I would, if I were you. But…it would mean the world to me if you could just try and see that I truly am sorry."

Donna was rendered speechless. She wracked her brain for something intelligent or supportive to say, but nothing struck her as perfectly appropriate.

Ray's face fell, her silence interpreted as refusal.

"Like I said…I understand."

"It's just…" she began, before she had even paused to consider her words. "It's just that…you really hurt me."

"I know," he agreed immediately, reaching across the table to take Donna's hand in his own. His hands felt warm and soft. A feeling she never remembered getting from him before. "I know I did. And I'm so very sorry."

She took a deep breath and let it out sharply. She wasn't sure how to respond, yet again.

"Listen, Donna…" he began shyly, patting the top of her hand with his spare. "I'd love to catch up with you. You know…get a bite to eat. Maybe at the Peach Pit, for old time's sake…"

Donna's heart froze. This was the last thing she had expected to hear. Hell, he was the last _person_ she had expected to see. But fate had a funny way of rearing its ugly head when it was most unwanted.

"Ray…I don't think…I mean, David and I just split up…"

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ray consoled, patting her on the hand once more. "I uh…I always thought you two would go the distance."

Donna felt tears burning in the corners of her eyes. She was growing sick of hearing how much she and David had let down everybody's image of true love.

"But really…No commitments. Just dinner between friends," Ray continued. "C'mon Donna, what do you say?"

She had learned years ago to take the bull by the horns whenever possible. What could it hurt, after all? Dinner in a public place where he could not hurt her if he tried? Donna's heart had always taught her to forgive those who sincerely needed it…and here Ray was, practically begging for her to accept his apology…

More than she could say for the idiot husband across the ocean.

What would he think of the current situation? How would it make him feel to know that Ray was back, and was ready to move on from all of the terrible things he had done? What would David tell her to do?

She imagined it in her head. He would probably tell her that there wasn't a chance in hell that he would allow it to happen. That even if pigs suddenly flew, Ray Pruit would never be allowed to speak to Donna ever again.

She found herself frustrated. How could she ever bring herself to move on if she allowed David to constantly berate her in the back of her mind? He had no right to tell her what to do anymore, even in her hypothetical day dreams.

Painfully, she thought of how long it had been since she had gone out with anybody other than David. The mere thought of doing so was heart-wrenching and liberating all at the same time.

But she had to move on at some point.

Donna took a deep breath and prepared for the plunge. She smiled meekly. "That would be great, Ray."


	3. Chapter 3

**Keep It Together**

_**Chapter Three**_

"Kelly, please…I haven't seen Dixon in days…"

"Silver, today isn't the day," Kelly remarked authoritatively, turning to face her younger half-sister. "With Ruby here, and you getting used to your medication—it's just not doable today, okay?"

Erin Silver scoffed indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Kelly, you can't keep treating me like a child."

Kelly softened. She understood the stress that Silver was going through…she remembered when David had been diagnosed with manic depression. Though it was comforting to have a definitive reason for feeling out of control, it was a deafeningly lonely revelation to be told that your emotions functioned so much differently than the rest of the world.

"Silver…listen…" she began quietly, stepping away from her attendance to the pot on the stove. She gently placed her hands on Silver's arms. "I'm sorry, but today has been…chaotic, to say the least." Erin rolled her eyes in frustration. "How about tomorrow? Dixon can come over first thing. We'll go out to lunch together. How's that?"

Silver exhaled resignedly and nodded. "Fine. But no mood journal tonight. I'm not up for it."

"Silver," Kelly began sternly. The look she received from her younger sister stopped the words at the tip of her tongue. She sighed. "Okay. Fine. But will you at least write in it yourself? You don't have to share it with me, if you don't want to."

"Fine," Silver repeated, grabbing the aforementioned notebook from the counter and departing irritably from the kitchen. Kelly watched her go and felt her heart bleed. It was so hard to watch Silver suffer…

_DING DONG._

"I'll get it!" Silver called from the living room. Kelly followed the sound of her voice, knowing that the visitor was likely Donna coming to pick up Ruby. Sure enough, Kelly's best friend was walking through the door, looking particularly more harried than usual.

"Hi, Kel," Donna began carefully. Kelly felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach, instinctually knowing that she wasn't going to like what Donna was going to say next.

"Silver, can you check on the noodles?" Kelly requested without looking away from her friend.

Without a word, Silver acquiesced.

"Listen…Kelly…the strangest thing happened today…" Donna continued, delicately seating herself on the arm of the couch. "I ran into Ray."

"Ray? Ray Pruit?" Kelly demanded sharply.

Donna winced slightly at her reaction. "Please. Don't be mad…He wants to take me out for dinner. To catch up."

Kelly's blood ran cold. She distinctly remembered the threat Ray posed to Donna throughout the course of their previous relationship. She remembered watching her best friend fall apart, not understanding what she had done to deserve such harsh treatment. She remembered hating him almost as much as David, who had sworn to kill Ray with his bare hands if he ever set foot in Beverly Hills again.

"Donna. Don't," Kelly commanded immediately, beginning to pace. "That's a terrible idea."

"Kelly," Donna started. Kelly could sense the sadness in her voice immediately. "I need this. I need to move on. This is the perfect opportunity…"

"But Ray?" Kelly repeated loudly, frustrated that Donna wasn't understanding her perspective. "That's the worst possible person to move on with."

"No, don't get me wrong," Donna corrected quickly. "It's not like that. I don't want to move on _with_ him…I just need a jump start. I need to start dating again. It's just…it's what needs to happen next in my life. Do you get what I'm saying?"

Kelly sighed in agitation, collapsing heavily onto the couch beside Donna. She studied her face carefully; her psychological training had equipped her with several valuable skills, including the talent of accurately reading those dear to her. Her arbitrary educational background reasoned that Donna made a valid point: taking the appropriate steps to move on was, indeed, one of the only ways to do so. However—her biased side wanted to take Donna by the shoulders and shake some sense into her.

"I…Are you sure?" Kelly asked finally, shaking her head in skepticism.

Donna smiled sadly. "I need this, Kel."

Kelly sighed once more. "All right. If you're sure."

"Can you watch Ruby for me?"

"What? You mean now?"

Donna winced apologetically. "He asked me to meet him at the Peach Pit in an hour."

Kelly smiled slightly. She could see how important the rendezvous was to Donna. She could also sense that Donna's intentions were purely innocent. Perhaps she was right: perhaps one harmless date would give her the strength to take another step forward in her life.

"It's not a problem," Kelly replied in defeat.

Donna squealed excitedly, throwing her arms around her friend. "Thank you so much! I love you! I won't be long, I promise." With that, she stood up, planted a quick kiss on her daughter's cheek, and was out the door.

Kelly sighed heavily, wondering if she had made the right decision in conceding the argument to Donna.

Her familiar ring tone suddenly echoed from inside her purse. Pulling it across the couch to herself, she retrieved her cell phone from its contents. The number was unrecognizable.

"Hello?" she answered.

There was a short hesitation on the other end of the line. Then, finally, "Hey Kel…It's Brandon."

Her heart skipped a beat.

* * *

><p>"Nobody puts Baby in a corner."<p>

"Don't be a fool, Swayze," David said aloud, throwing a handful of popcorn angrily at the television. "She's only going to break your heart, man!"

It was pathetic, really. David was well aware. The mere fact that he was watching _Dirty Dancing_, of all things, made him want to jump out the seven-story window. No matter that it was one of Donna's favorite movies…that was beside the point. It was the fact that no self-respecting adult man should ever be caught dead in front of the movie.

But somehow, he hadn't been able to divert his morbid curiosity.

Jennifer Gray took a running leap into Patrick Swayze's arms. He held her high above his head in triumph. Like a trophy.

"You're happy _now_," David continued dejectedly. "But wait until she flies halfway across the world to start a business. You'll see, man…you'll see…"

There was a knock on the door. David considered rising from his man cave, which he had artistically converted the couch into, but decided against it. Even if he wanted company, the apartment was in no shape. After three days of pizza delivery and HBO, the tables and floor had become littered with garbage. He hadn't gone to work…hadn't showered in days. And he didn't give a shit, truthfully.

The door creaked open. "Hello? Silver?"

David sighed resignedly. He had forgotten to deadbolt the door. Surely it was Bradley coming over to check up on him—to inquire about the offer he had made him. He never did call him back…

"Dear God, man. _What are you doing_?"

David looked over his shoulder to assess the visitor standing behind the couch.

"Brandon?"

"Yeah," confirmed the visitor. "Yes, it's me. Brandon. Have you seen my friend David?" he demanded. David knew he was only partially joking: the current sight was certainly disconcerting.

David gulped hard in embarrassment, standing to hurriedly clear a path for Brandon.

"I wasn't expecting anybody…"

"I can see that. Hopefully the mice won't take it too hard…" Brandon muttered, doing a once-over around the living room. "What the hell is going on, man?"

David paused, mid-cleaning, holding pizza boxes and napkins in his arms to survey his old friend. How long had it been? Years, for sure…but despite the fact that Brandon seemed a distant memory, he hadn't changed a bit.

"It's good to see you, pal," David decided at last.

"Nice to see you too," Brandon began uncertainly. "Looks like I got here just in time."

"What are you doing here?" David asked as he continued to shove the garbage into the trash can.

"Out here doing a story…I tried to call first…"

"Oh, right." David laughed sheepishly. "I broke the phone. Forgot about that…"

"Okay, _what_ is that smell?" Brandon demanded distractedly, turning his nose up as he attempted to find a relatively clean place to throw his jacket.

"Well…the garbage…it's been a few days…"

"No kidding," Brandon retorted good-naturedly. He moved in to give his friend a hug. "It's good to see you."

David hugged back gratefully. He hadn't felt this happy in months. Despite his comfortable status as a hermit as of late, he found himself pleased to welcome this particular visitor.

Brandon pulled back abruptly. "Okay. Yep. The smell is coming from you."

"Oh," David murmured shyly. "Yeah…uh…hot water got turned off."

"Uh huh…" Brandon responded cynically. "Look man…stop cleaning. We'll take care of it later. Now _what_ is going on?" Brandon at last conceded to taking a seat on the couch. A disturbing crunch came from beneath the cushion, which he forcefully tried to neglect.

"I…I…" David tried to squeeze what he could from his creative juices. He surely couldn't tell Brandon the truth…that he was heartbroken—that he received a job offer that he never imagined he would ever feel so ambivalent about—that he didn't have a single person to lean on or get advice from.

"Spit it out man."

David sighed heavily and collapsed into a sitting position on the couch. What good would it do to lie to Brandon, anyway? He always saw through it. It was the damn Walsh compassion and intuition. He shrugged in defeat. "I miss her, Brandon."

Brandon took a deep breath and let it out slowly. David assessed his countenance, trying to read between the gears turning ferociously in his friend's brain.

"I understand," Brandon said at last. He rubbed the bridge of his nose somberly, as if he had just caught wind of a death in the family. "David…Listen…I have to tell you something. And I hate to do it, because I know you're not going to like it."

David's breath hitched in his chest. It was as if the sinking feeling he had had for days was suddenly launching itself back into his throat. His instincts had told him that something was wrong. "What is it?" he asked worriedly. "Did something happen to Ruby? Is Donna okay?"

"No, no, everybody is fine…" Brandon rushed. "That is…relatively speaking," he added under his breath.

The hitch in David's chest seemed to be swelling with every breath. "Then what?"

Brandon took a deep breath and rested his elbows on his knees, busily massaging his knuckles. "I spoke with Kelly yesterday."

"And? What?" David demanded.

Brandon exhaled heavily. "She said that Donna ran into Ray Pruit the other day. I'm sorry, David…they went on a date last night."

It was as if the fist that clutched at David's heart suddenly tightened its omnipotent grip, crushing it into a million pieces. He could feel his blood pumping in his ears. _Ray Pruit_?

"What the hell is she thinking?" David cried. "After everything he did to her! How could she even dream of speaking to him, let alone letting him take her out?"

"I know, I know," Brandon consoled, holding his hands up in pseudo surrender. "It didn't make any sense to me either…"

"Why would she—how could she—" David ranted, unable to find the words to complete his sentences. He leapt to his feet, running his fingers vehemently through his hair in frustration. He tried to count, but the only image in his head was of Ray holding each and every number.

"I need a drink," he decided finally, bee-lining towards the liquor cabinet.

"Make it two," Brandon agreed, leaning heavily back against the couch.

David pulled the decanter of whiskey from the cabinet, trying to control the tremor in his hands. He carefully poured two double-shot glasses, unable to prevent himself from dripping the alcohol all over the counter.

"David…" Brandon began. David pretended as though he didn't hear him. He felt an unfamiliar stinging in the corners of his eyes. The fact that Donna had agreed to a date with Ray Pruit, of all people, was bad enough…That notion now sat on the back burner…What concerned him more immediately was attempting to accept the fact that she was moving on. Without him.

"Cheers," David declared suddenly, handing Brandon the shot glass. "To old friends."

"David—"

"_To old friends_," David repeated sternly.

Brandon sighed in defeat and raised his glass. "To old friends. Bottoms up."


	4. Chapter 4

**Keep It Together**

_**Chapter Four**_

"I will never forget the time," Brandon slurred, sloshing a portion of his whiskey out of the cup and onto the coffee table, "that we went to that rave and you got crazy drunk. And I got tricked into doing U4EA. We were such a stupid group of teenagers."

David began laughing at the memory, and found that he had a hard time stopping. "So stupid," he agreed. "Good thing we don't make stupid decisions anymore, right?"

"Absolutely," Brandon replied, topping off the double shots with more whiskey. "You see, some people may think that we're being stupid right now…getting drunk like frat boys…But we're being smart about it."

"Right!" David concurred, raising his glass for another toast. "We could be doing something way stupider than sitting here…Like driving…Or picking up girls…"

"Let's toast to being mature, grown adults," Brandon decided, raising his glass as well. Again, the alcohol sloshed over the side.

"Mature, grown adults!" David agreed, downing the shot glass. His whole body was tingling and he felt high as a kite. It must have been years since he had drank to the purposeful point of intoxication. He had become a bit of a lush, to tell the truth. Brandon seemed in a similar boat, for he had begun to hum obnoxiously along to The Sound Of Music, which played on the television in the background.

"The hills are aliiiiiiive," Brandon sang drunkenly. He stopped mid-stanza to look at David, perplexed. "That would honestly freak me out."

"What?"

"If hills were alive."

David felt an uncontrollable urge to giggle once more. He remembered Brandon always being the life of the party when he was drinking, which was a habit he tended to steer clear from a majority of the time. However, in David's time of need, he was grateful for the inebriated company.

"So," Brandon started, clumsily resuming his spot on the couch. "What are we going to do about this Donna thing?"

Despite his intoxication, David felt his body flinch at the sound of her name. However, in his drunken mindset, it was quickly diverted.

"I'm gonna win her back, man."

"Spectacular!" Brandon chanted, sweeping his arms out to insinuate a grand gesture. "How do you plan to do that?"

David paused. Drunk or sober, he truthfully hadn't the faintest idea.

"C'mon now," Brandon chided, wagging his finger in David's face. "You've made some pretty amazing moves to impress her in the past. Have you lost your creativity already?"

"Well," David started, attempting to ingest any remaining drops from his shot glass. "I wrote that I loved her in the sand once. Took me all night. Don't think I can top that again."

"What if you write her a song?" Brandon suggested, returning to the liquor cabinet to retrieve the whiskey.

"Nah, done that too," David argued.

Suddenly Brandon whirled around to face David, nearly losing his balance. "I have an idea!"

"Yeah?"

"Call Kelly! Ask her what you should do!"

"Yeah!" David agreed drunkenly, logic escaping him. He reached for his phone, which dangled uselessly in two pieces. He had forgotten again that it was snapped in half from launching it at the mirror before. "Oh…" He began giggling uncontrollably once more.

"Use my cell," Brandon offered, digging through his jacket pocket to retrieve it. He handed it over to his friend.

"Okay…time to read numbers…" David decided, coaching himself aloud. The buttons all seemed to blur together.

"Aw, shit," Brandon stated.

"What?"

"Somebody drank all the whiskey," he replied somberly, holding the open bottle upside-down to demonstrate.

"I think that was us."

"Nooooo," Brandon disagreed, waving a dismissive hand in David's direction.

David took a deep breath and closed his eyes, reopening them to concentrate harder on reading the digits. After a few mistakes, he finally managed to complete the call.

"It's ringing!" David announced excitedly.

"Phones do that," Brandon agreed, sarcasm dripping thickly from his words.

"Hello?" a sleepy voice responded.

"Heyyy, sis!" David declared loudly.

"David, do you have any idea what time it is here?"

"Oh," David replied sheepishly, forgetting entirely about the 16 hour time difference. "Sorry…wasn't thinking about it…"

"It's fine," Kelly sighed. "I have to get up soon anyway to get ready for work."

"David," Brandon called from the liquor cabinet. "Since the whiskey is gone, do you mind if I break into the brandy?"

"Go for it," David responded. "Pour me a glass too."

"David, are you drinking?" Kelly demanded.

"Maybe a little…" David said. He unsuccessfully stifled a giggle. "Or a lot."

Kelly groaned. "Don't be an idiot, David."

David chose to ignore her insult. "Listen, Kel…I need your help with something."

"Oh, God," Kelly muttered.

"I need some ideas about how to win Donna back."

"Don't drag me into the middle, David," Kelly begged. "Please. I can't handle it right now. I can't believe you would even ask me about this."

David reached out carefully to take the shot glass that Brandon presented to him. "Hey, don't get mad at me. Calling you was Brandon's idea." In response, Brandon glared at him, shaking his head as if to deflect any and all responsibility.

"Brandon is with you?" Kelly demanded. "Oh, I can only imagine the mess you guys are getting yourselves into…"

"Kelly," David began soberly. "Is it true?"

Kelly paused. "Is what true?" she asked quietly.

"Don't insult me," David pleaded. "You know what I'm talking about."

Another pause. "David, if this is about Ray…"

"I knew it," David growled angrily. "I can't believe she would do that…What the hell was going through her head?"

Kelly sighed again. "David. Listen. If you don't like it, I suggest you do something about it. But don't ask me to get involved."

"Kelly, please," David continued, fighting to talk past the lump in his throat. "I need your help."

There was a hesitation in which David could almost hear the gears turning in Kelly's head.

"Okay. Here's the deal," she began. "Steve and Janet are in town visiting his mother. His birthday is next week. Donna and I are planning to throw him a surprise birthday party at the After Dark this weekend. And maybe—ugh…I can't believe I'm saying this—maybe if you were to show up…"

David turned this idea over in his head at warp speed. A party with old friends…the lights, the music…the nostalgic effect would surely play to his strengths. He could easily convince Donna to come back to him in that setting, as long as he played his cards right.

"You're a genius, Kel. I love you."

"If you say anything to her about this conversation, I promise you, I will deny it," Kelly threatened.

"Not a problem. I'll see you tomorrow."

"What? Tomorrow?" Kelly demanded loudly. David purposefully ignored her and hung up.

"Well?" Brandon pressed, holding onto his full shot glass in anticipation of David's readiness to partake.

"Steve's birthday party," David announced shortly.

"Oh, man…the party…" Brandon recalled, groaning. "I forgot about that…"

"Will you go with me? For moral support?" David begged. "Please, Brandon…I need you to help me."

"But my article…it isn't finished…" Brandon began pathetically. He glanced at David, seeing the desperation in his eyes. He sighed dejectedly. "Fine. I'll re-route the topic and do it from Beverly Hills."

David grinned. "Thanks, buddy. One last shot, what do you say?"

"Now you're talking," Brandon agreed laughingly, raising his glass. "So what's the plan?"

"After a couple hours of sleep, we're on the next flight to Los Angeles…and there's one last phone call I need to make," David decided.

Brandon shrugged helplessly. "Whatever you say, man." With that, they clanked their glasses together in one last toast.

* * *

><p>Donna sat tiredly at her desk, staring at the blank sketch pad before her. Today was originally supposed to be specifically designated for designing her summer line, but her mind was drawing a continuous blank.<p>

The events from the night before were playing over and over in her head like a film strip. Ray smiling at her over his dinner…walking her to her front door…planting a timidly gentle kiss on her lips before getting in his truck and heading home…

The worst part was, she couldn't shake the ambivalence about the entire thing. She had wanted to go in the first place, yes—she had made that decision herself. However, after experiencing a heavy bout of déjà vu and fighting tooth and nail to keep David from crossing her mind the entire night, she felt only exhausted and confused.

She had run straight over to Kelly's to pick up Ruby after Ray had departed. The look on Kelly's face when Donna gave the play-by-play was less than desirable. She understood. She knew Kelly was only looking out for her well-being. She worried…there was nothing wrong with that. However, it did nothing to solve the ambivalent feelings plaguing Donna's psyche.

She couldn't quite put her finger on the reason it was so very hard. Was it because she was used to being with David and David alone? Was it because she wasn't truly ready to move on? Or—worst of all—could it be that she was still in love with David and was still far away from falling in love with anybody else?

It wasn't as though she was terribly interested in Ray. Truth be told, she was gently using him to her own benefit, to accelerate the "moving on" resolution. She felt terrible for it too—she didn't mean to lead him on. She hoped that the single date was all he had had in mind; because if not, she was quickly jumping in over her head. Not only was she no longer attracted to Ray, she had no interest in commencing any new relationships whatsoever. Not right now, at least.

"Donna?"

She turned; her assistant, Mary Ann, stood behind her.

"Delivery for you." Mary Ann smiled coyly as she placed the long box in front of Donna.

"Oh, dear," Donna murmured, knowing exactly what sorts of things came in such long, flat boxes.

"Have an admirer, do you?" Mary Ann inquired nosily, leaning in beside Donna as she began to untie the blue ribbon adorning the box.

"God, I hope not," Donna muttered. She at last managed to remove the ribbon and peel the top away from the package.

Two dozen pink roses. Staring her directly in the face. She sighed heavily.

"Ohh!" Mary Ann squealed. "You are so lucky!"

There was a card enclosed as well. Donna took a deep breath before reaching for it.

"_I love you. "D"."_

Her heart skipped a beat. The note mirrored an exact replica that she had received from David years ago, when he was trying to win her back from Cliff Yeager. Truthfully, she was relieved to find that they weren't from Ray—at least he hadn't gotten the wrong idea. However, it was almost as disconcerting to deal with accepting the identity of the actual sender.

"Who's "D"?" Mary Ann pried.

"My…husband," Donna responded quietly. She had tried to force the word "ex" into the sentence, and had choked on it like before. _One step forward and two steps back…_she thought to herself bitterly.

"I thought plans for divorce were in order?" Mary Ann continued. Donna ground her teeth, wishing that Mary Ann would mind her own damn business.

"It's complicated," she answered at last, quickly re-capping the package and pushing it carelessly to a distant corner of her desk; she opened her drawer and threw the card in, slamming it shut. She resumed her seat and began busying herself with her sketches once more, praying that Mary Ann would take a hint and leave her be.

"Seems to me you're making it more complicated than you need to," Mary Ann stated. "I'll tell you one thing—if I had a husband in Japan that sent me two dozen long-stemmed roses, I'd be saying 'sayonata' to Beverly Hills."

"It's 'sayonara'," Donna muttered under her breath. However, Mary Ann had already whisked herself away—undoubtedly to gossip about Donna's delivery. She sighed dramatically, slowly opening her desk drawer to retrieve the card once more. She read it over several times, trying to make sense of its meaning.

"_I love you. "D"."_ What did that mean? Was it simply a nostalgic display of affection? Or had he forgotten entirely that he had ever written anything similar before? Or was it his clever way of implying that he was going to fight for her again, as he did so many years back?

"This is ridiculous," she scolded herself, pushing the card back into the drawer and closing it roughly. The box teetered on the edge of her desk from the impact. She felt foolish for reading so unnecessarily far into the meaning behind the card. It was stupid. It was time to move on and that's all there was to it. If David truly meant for her to think that he was going to fight to win her back, then he better have some spectacular trick up his sleeve—because after everything that happened, Donna was in no mood to accept apologies.

She continued to stare at her blank sketch pad. Only the title "Summer Line" had been scrawled into the top right hand corner. She groaned softly to herself, resigning to herself that today would not be terribly productive after all.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: I**'m sorry it has been so very long since I've done anything with this story. I'm making an attempt to get back into the swing of things. I hope and pray that there are still some readers who are interested in forgiving a very careless and inconsiderate author. _

_I love you all. Onward!_

* * *

><p><strong><span>Keep It Together<span>  
><strong>

**Chapter Five**

The first flight back to California was anything but bearable, and the hangovers were no help. After a juvenile argument over who would get the window seat, David was resigned to a very uncomfortable position between a snoring, drooling Brandon to his right and a very sweaty heavyset man to his left. Elbowroom had always been somewhat of a luxury that he had never quite appreciated before.

The layover in Portland was no better, for several flights had been delayed due to severe thunderstorm conditions. For much of the four-hour pause, David had not even had a proper place to sit. Brandon had been so exhausted that he practically begged David to help him rent a cheap set of hotel rooms, and take the first connecting flight in the morning. David had, of course, declined. And this victory had cost him the only remaining seat, for Brandon was a sore loser.

Once the plane at last landed in LAX, Brandon had all but fallen to the ground to kiss the earth beneath his feet. David knew how much he hated to fly; and if he hadn't before this trip, he certainly did _now_.

"You're late," Kelly quipped irritably as she met them at baggage claim.

"Sorry, Kel," Brandon sighed wearily, "lots of delays in Oregon."

"Well, I'm glad to see you," Kelly said with a smile of surrender, wrapping her arms around Brandon in a welcoming embrace. She then turned to greet David in the same fashion.

"It's nice to see you too, sis," David agreed. He could feel the creeping sensation of jetlag settling upon him, but fought to ignore it. "What's the plan?"

"Plan?" Kelly questioned.

"About Donna," David said impatiently, lifting his suitcase from the belt and locking the pull handle in place. "C'mon, Kel, I just talked to you yesterday."

Kelly scoffed, bemused. "No, no, no. You see, I already told you I will have no involvement in whatever brilliant scheme you two have come up with."

"I assure you, there was positively no brilliance involved," Brandon declared, rubbing his face tiredly. "There was far too much alcohol to call it 'brilliant'."

"If I remember correctly, we spent about an hour trying to perfect some kind of idea involving circus performers," David agreed, wincing.

"And elephants," Brandon added. "Doesn't make a damn bit of sense today, of course. Hence why I don't ordinarily drink."

Kelly stared at them, bemused. If she had some kind of snide remark up her sleeve, she was biting her tongue quite well.

"I spoke with Valerie earlier," Brandon began as they headed for the exit. David was hurriedly weaving in and out of the numerous passengers to keep up. "Casa Walsh is a go."

"_Valerie_ has been living there?" Kelly demanded vapidly. She released an involuntary shudder. "I'd like to say at least you're keeping it in the family, but…"

Brandon chuckled. "Really, Kel? After all this time? Isn't it time to move on?"

Kelly pressed her tongue to the inside of her cheek, evidently displeased at Brandon's commentary. "Let the record show that I think this is a terrible idea."

"So you've said," David said dismissively as they stepped out into the sunlight. He had a brief wave of nostalgia as he admired the busy streets of the place he had, for so long, called home. "Lead the way."

* * *

><p>Kelly refused to come inside. Not that it surprised David much. It was somewhat amusing to see that old habits died hard, and imagined that Valerie would react no differently.<p>

The Walsh house was an exact mirror image of what it had always been. Floods of memories were washing in rapidly as he made his way up the porch. Christmases and Thanksgivings and teenage hangouts. He remembered kissing Donna under the mistletoe and wishing, in that very moment, that he could do nothing else for the rest of his life.

Brandon did not even blink as he threw the door open. This behavior surprised David a bit, who had expected him to ring the doorbell. Then again – old habits and all. It was becoming something of a theme for the day.

"Honey, I'm home!" Brandon called jokingly as they stepped into the foyer, dropping their luggage carelessly at their feet. Within seconds, Valerie bounded around the corner with a grin on her face, throwing her arms around Brandon.

"It's so good to see you!" she cried. As she pulled back, she clutched at Brandon's cheeks, as if ensuring that he actually existed. "I missed you so much."

He affectionately rubbed her back. "I missed you too, Val."

Just as David was moving in to greet her, himself, a familiar face came wandering in from around the corner. It took him a moment to regain his bearings as a barrage of unpleasant memories began to overtake the ones he held so dear. The boat. The club. Donna leaving him the first time…

"Noah," he said quietly. He had not intended for the name to sound so caustic leaving his mouth, but found himself unable to help it.

Noah offered what appeared to be a half-ass smile. "David."

There was a pregnant pause in which nobody spoke. At last, Valerie cleared her throat as she reached out to put her palms on Noah's chest. "Baby, why don't you go ahead and take Brandon's bags upstairs? My old room is fine."

He nodded curtly, pecking her on the cheek. There was a moment where he looked at David, as though daring him to say anything crass about the scene unfolding before him. But to be honest, David was too flabbergasted to even_ begin_ thinking of a sarcastic remark. Then, without another word, Noah collected Brandon's things and made his way up the stairs.

There was an undeniably awkward silence that settled in the room as he exited. Brandon, looking as though he'd rather run with the bulls in Pamplona than bear witness to the conversation that would follow, cleared his throat abruptly.

"I need to go…uh…be somewhere else," he announced. He clapped David on the shoulder as he shimmied his way between them and hurried to catch up with Noah.

Valerie was purposefully avoiding eye contact, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Noah Hunter," David chuckled. "Oh, that's rich."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded icily. Her hands quickly went to her hips as she assumed the defensive.

"No, nothing," David mused. He was far more entertained by the notion than he should have been. It was tragically poetic in so many ways, primarily the fact that Noah somehow embodied all of the issues David and Donna had ever had. "Just funny, is all. You ending up with the guy that stole Donna from me."

"That was almost ten years ago," Valerie stated vehemently. "It's time to move on, David."

"Oh, I'm not finished looking at all of the irony," David continued, only half-aware of the amused smile that he could not get off of his face. "He's also the guy that you always denied having feelings for when we were together. I thought you were 'just friends'. Like I said. Ironic."

"That's the pot calling the kettle black, if I ever heard it," Val snapped. "What about all the times you and Donna were so _innocently_ hanging out behind our backs? And now look where the two of _you_ are."

Just hearing her name was like taking a lashing across bare skin, and the annoying smile was gone in an instant. Valerie was right, of course – therein stood the irony he had referred to. However, she was apparently missing a large piece of the puzzle.

"She left me," he stated bluntly. It came out far more easily than he had expected it to. Despite the toxic nature of his relationship with Valerie, he had always been able to be honest with her about what he was thinking. In a way, she had always been more suited as his best friend than as his lover.

Her defensive wall immediately crumbled. She looked as though she was about to reach out to him, but thought better of it. "David…I – I didn't know. I haven't talked to her. I'm so sorry…"

"Don't be," David interrupted. "I'm here to change it."

She grimaced a bit, as though doubting his ability to do just this. There was worry etched in the depths of her blue eyes. She looked as though she was going to voice her reservations, but instead simply murmured, "How?"

"Haven't the slightest." David was moving past her now to make his way up the stairs to Brandon's – Steve's – Matt's? – old bedroom. She was hot on his heels, unwilling to settle for an answer such as that.

"You can't just go in guns blazing," she insisted, taking the steps two at a time to keep up with him. "You have to think this through!"

"What is there to think about?" David retaliated. "I want her back. It's as simple as that."

She paused at the doorway to the bedroom, watching sadly as he hoisted his suitcase onto the neatly-made guest bed. He flipped it open and began mindlessly rummaging through his belongings, attempting to ignore her worried gaze burning a hole in the back of his head.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to stare?" he said after a few moments, without turning to face her.

She sighed heavily from somewhere behind him. "David…did you ever consider the fact that she might pull away more if you overwhelm her?"

He had. Of course he had. But it couldn't be any worse than it was right now.

"I mean…" Val started, hesitantly making her way to where he stood. Something in her voice had changed. A familiar 'devil may care' tone had begun to bleed into her words. "If you needed help with a scheme, you should have just asked _me_."

Taken aback, he whirled around to face her. She was wearing her characteristic smirk, as though already allowing the wheels to turn anxiously in her head. She was well at work devising something already.

"Scheme," he muttered. It was as though the proverbial light bulb had gone off. "Val, that's brilliant!"

She scoffed good-naturedly. "Don't get too excited. I haven't even given you any ideas yet."

"You don't have to," he decided. He had begun to pace the carpet in front of her, rubbing his chin pensively. "I already know what to do."

She cocked an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms expectantly. "I'm listening."

"Jealousy!" he declared, stopping to face her. He grabbed her by the shoulders. "We did it once before…we can do it again!"

Val's face fell rapidly. She knew immediately what he was referring to.

"Yeah, and do you remember how that turned out last time?" she questioned brashly. "Donna and Noah never even batted an eyelash!"

"It's different. It has to be. She isn't in love with anyone else this time," David reasoned distractedly. He slowly lowered himself into a sitting position on the bed, his mind quick at work.

Valerie was carefully approaching him, as though afraid that he may suddenly explode from excitement. "David…you're acting manic…"

He knew she was worried about whether his bipolar was rearing its ugly head. He was offended for only a second before he surged on.

"It's not mania, it's inspiration," he argued. He leapt to his feet once more, causing her to take a step back. "C'mon, Val! Help me out!"

"Noah will kill me!" she cried. "He will never let me do it, not in a million years."

"Oh, he owes me," David said dismissively. "He'll get over it."

She looked as though she wanted to argue, but instead sighed and ran a nervous hand through her hair. She pressed her lips together worriedly. "I just don't see how it can work…"

"It will. Trust me." He grabbed her suddenly and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. She uncertainly returned it, awkwardly patting him on the back.

"It's great to see you," he said quickly as he released her and rushed back into the hallway.

"But David – What about Noah?!" Valerie called after him.

"I'll take care of it!" came his reply from halfway down the stairs. She groaned heavily in resignation, making her way to follow.


End file.
